Fell on deaf ears…
As far as weekends go, this past one was among the worst. Its has been the sort of morning when I wake up after about 90 minutes of collected sleep, and ache for warm sand beneath my feet, solace and sunshine as waves crash and fill my senses with the healing reset that only the beach can do for me. That salty air is a balm which nothing else compares, and so naturally I haven’t had the pleasure of such pleasure in years. The benefit of living back home was that, at least once a year, I could make that happen. When the topic of moving back to this place arose, I honestly laid it all out there. I would need intention, on his part, to connect and prioritize us. I would need quality time together. I would need to still make it to the beach.
Do you ever feel like the things you allow yourself to vulnerably express fall on deaf ears? It isn’t that you aren’t heard as much as the listener simply doesn’t care enough to remember/do something about it/validate you/etc? This has become the story of my life and that change began the moment I agreed to move. It was subtle, for a long time, changing us each in negative ways. There was a time when I was a partner, a best friend, a nurturing mother, of actual value… It was life, so naturally it wasn’t always easy. This though, this has become something worse. At some point, something changed and I became the easy one to punish, the easy one to blame. Is it any wonder when the general theme around my home was that I was the problem- why it made sense for me to leave? I am reminded again and again and again of how I walked out on my husband and family. This perspective isn’t real. It is like the protocol changed, and suddenly it wasn’t expected that we be honest with ourselves. I left because my husband wanted me to. He was the ONLY person who ever said it was the “best thing”. He was the only one who ever seemed happy with the decision. He blames me for physically walking out the door, even though it was only after he made it clear I was not welcome to stay. Yet, lets blame Misty. That’s easy. Blame is tossed around like a ball on the NBA court. I get to be the scapegoat because that helps everyone else feel better about themselves. It’s ok to hurt me to soothe yourself, I guess. I mean it happens whether I like it or not. The three days I was looking forward to, in this season, were Mother’s Day, my mom’s birthday and Genny’s graduation. Well, the first two were complete nightmares that only pointed out the lack of consideration I am worth in the eyes of others…
I am so tired. And that’s the thing about chronic illness. Stress makes it worse. Lack of support (note: I have none here, really) makes it significantly worse. And then I am made to feel like garbage because I am truly doing my best and it isn’t enough. I am doing my best with the puppy, I am doing my best at home. I am doing my best to intentionally prioritize my health. I am doing my best with this frustrating season as a parent. I am doing my best, and am told so often how I should walk more, exercise more, need to take better care to train the puppy, need to ___________. No one stops to look at the fact that I cry myself to sleep and then wake up every 15-20 min anyway until I simply can’t lay there in pain anymore. No one notices how long it takes me to get up the stairs or how I about collapse afterwards because I am in pain. No one sees me rubbing my hands near constantly, holding back tears or throwing up food because I am too nauseous. No one is looking at me, just the expectations they have of me and how I am failing them. I can flat out say I CAN’T DO THIS. I AM HURTING. I CAN’T FUNCTION RIGHT NOW! and yet no one really hears this. The irony is that when I point this out, that isn’t heard either. I can lay out instance after instance after instance and it doesn’t matter because I am not worthy of hearing. Period.
I am so tired, and I simply fall on deaf ears. I need help. I need patience. I need support. I need to not be treated like a burden. I need to not be lied to. I need to be loved. Actively loved. Words mean nothing. Sure I hear “I’ll help you, I have no problem helping you.” But that isn’t true. I am broken down and being pelted by the actions which scream otherwise.
Super grim post. I know. It’s where I am today.
Who am I kidding. It’s where I am every day. Today I’m just a little more honest.